But it doesn’t alter the situation. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. White,” she remarked. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful.
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